


Fulfilling Expectations

by blue_jack



Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: Angst and Humor, Drunk Sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2010-04-09
Updated: 2010-04-09
Packaged: 2017-11-16 01:17:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/533880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blue_jack/pseuds/blue_jack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Longing.  Drunken one night stand.  The aftermath.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fulfilling Expectations

Fuck. He didn’t know when it had happened. One day, he’d barely known the guy at all, the next they’d been pushed together in order to engender feelings of camaraderie that transcended time and space—preferably before the movie’s premier. And somehow, somewhere during all the shooting and interviews and cast get-togethers, Zach had fallen hopelessly in lust with his costar, Christopher.

And that was fine. That was all well and good, because it really wasn’t that big a deal. Not really. He’d had crushes before. He’d even had crushes on straight men before, so it wasn’t something new. Not, admittedly, on someone like Chris before—and Zach didn’t understand how Chris had managed to create his own subcategory within Zach’s mind—but he could handle it. He could damn well handle it, and all he needed was some time, because he’d get over it soon enough.

Except, he hadn’t. And didn’t that throw a kink into his plans.

But it was difficult trying to get over someone when he was with the guy almost twenty-four seven. So he just had to survive the press tour, and then he’d be home free, because real life would intervene, and it wasn’t like they’d be able to spend much time together once the dust settled.

The problem was that Zach found himself falling a little out of lust and more into love with Chris day after day, interview after interview while Chris smiled and laughed and answered all the interviewers’ questions but always seemed to be joking more with Zach than with whoever was opposite them that day.

Alright. So it was little bit of a problem.

“Dude, what is with the heavy brooding thing you’ve got going? I hate to inform you of this, but you aren't a pimply-faced teenager anymore confronted with the existential crisis of whether your choice of shoes means you're raging against the machine, or if they’ve become so trendy that you’re actually conforming to it.”

Zach looked up, and he couldn’t help himself. He smiled.

“Seriously, I could feel the deep thinker vibes from across the room. What’s up?”

He tilted his head back. “The roof. And above that, the sky. And above that, we hit space, the final frontier—”

“What are you? Five? That’s it. No more interviews for you. Today anyway. I make no promises about tomorrow.” Chris sat down next to him, and it was almost weird to have him be so close but not actually touching. Stupid pre-arranged chairs where the two of them were pressed together like—

“And now the brooding is back. What? My sunny personality isn’t enough to make you effervesce with joy?”

Now that was unfair. Because most times, the answer was yes. Except this time, Chris was the root of his problems. Zach pasted on another smile and cocked his eyebrow. “Have you been reading the dictionary again, Christopher?”

“Hey, I do not read the dictionary. Much. Only on alternate Tuesdays or bank holidays. Totally doesn’t count.”

“Christopher.”

“Zachary,” he replied, his face unwontedly serious although his eyes glimmered with amusement. It wasn’t fair that Chris cared this much, that he would notice Zach was out of it and sit down to try to cheer him up, but that he didn’t care _enough_. Not the way Zach wanted him to.

“I’m just tired.”

“Oh, come on—”

“No, really, too much drinking last night, couldn’t sleep, bad hair day this morning—”

“Oh no! Not bad hair!”

“I know, right? It’s like the gods conspire against me.” He ran a fingertip delicately over the gelled strands in order to make sure it didn’t disturb the do, his expression lugubrious. “It took me like thirty minutes and half my gel to get it right this morning.”

“You’re such an ass,” Chris snickered, wrapping his arm around Zach’s neck and bending him forward so he could completely ruin all his hard work.

“Not the hair, not the hair!” Zach laughed, soaking up the touch.

Fuck, he was in so much trouble.

\-----------

“I can’t believe it’s over,” Chris said, shaking his head and fiddling with his beer.

“Well, until the next one anyway,” John said, slouched back in the booth. “So that’ll give you almost three years to perfect your fighting skills so it take Zach two minutes to kick your ass instead of just one.”

“Thanks, John. Thanks. Really, I feel so much better now.”

“What’s a brother for?” John said, nodding.

“Don’t you have a wife and baby to go home to?”

John gasped. “You wound me! It’s like you don’t even want me here, Chris!”

“I wouldn’t quite say it like that. More like—”

“You’re staring,” Zoe whispered, and Zach stilled for one moment before turning his head.

“What do you mean?” he asked, playing the blissful ignorance card as hard as he could.

“Uh huh.” She took a sip of her Cosmopolitan. “You guys live in the same neighborhood. It’s not like you’re not going to see him after this.”

“What? You mean Chris? Really, Zoe, I have no idea—totally not working is it? Was it the eyebrows that gave me away? I was going for confused skepticism, but I think it came off as constipated—yeah, okay, fine. How long have you known?”

“Just a couple of weeks now. You’ve been acting a little . . . clingy.”

Zach took a deep drink, trying to hide his panic behind the action. “Does everyone else know, too? Crap, do you think _he_ knows?”

“I don’t think anyone else suspects anything. Or if they do, they haven’t told me.”

“Great. That’s . . . that’s so helpful, Zoe, really.”

“You should tell him.”

“Wow. I can’t believe I was here to listen to the worst idea you’ve ever had,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“You know, there’s a reason you guys have such great chemistry. It’s because you guys have _such great chemistry_ , Zach.”

He looked around to make sure everyone’s attention was still on the banter between Chris and John, and he leaned a little closer to her. “Look, I appreciate the concern, and I understand that you’re trying to make everyone happy, but one question. One. Have you ever seen—hell, or even heard a rumor about—Chris with another man?”

“Well, no, but—”

“I rest my case.”

“Zach, that doesn’t mean anything! Have you seen the way he looks at you—”

“Zoe, trust me on this. Heterosexual men do not like being hit on my gay guys. Even if they’re friends, even if they’re okay with homosexuality, making a pass at a straight guy is a sure fire way to ruin a friendship. Completely. Beyond repair.”

“Zach—”

“Firsthand experience talking here. I’m not going to jeopardize my friendship with Chris over this.”

She sighed. “Okay. I won’t mention it again.”

“Thank you.”

“Even though I’m telling you he’s interested.”

“Zoe—”

“Nothing else to say.”

He laughed. He closed his eyes and shook his head and let her hug him. And he wished for things he couldn’t have.

\-----

Oh, fuck, his head. It wasn’t quite a full-out headache yet, more that it was throbbing and he felt groggy and drunk and like his head was too heavy for his body. Zach forced his eyes open, fighting the way they tried to drag themselves closed, and moaned softly, rubbing his palm on his forehead. What the hell?

He head lolled to the side, and he blinked and looked around. It was dark outside, the only light coming from a lamp, which was just way too bright, and it was tempting— _so_ tempting—to fall back asleep. Except . . . it wasn’t his room.

And he didn’t—fuck, he didn’t have any pants on. That was so bad.

And shit—ow, ow, ow—he’d apparently had a really good time if the dried semen pulling on his pubic hair was any indication. Damn it. He hated one night stands.

Yup, and to make matters worse, his partner was lying in bed with him if the soft snore was anything to go by.

Great. Perfect. This just couldn’t get any better.

He winced and performed the Herculean task of sitting upright. Oh yeah. Still drunk. So very, very drunk. He hoped he’d at least had the good sense to pick up someone sexy, because he had standards to uphold, even when completely wasted—

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, _fuck_! No. There was no way. There was _no fucking way._

Zoe. Fuck, why couldn’t it have been Zoe? Or Karl, or even John, or Simon, or _anyone_ , anyone other than Chris.

Fuck, why the hell was it Chris?

_I’m not going to jeopardize my friendship with Chris over this._

How had that happened?

They’d been drinking. Everyone had been drinking. And then . . . he remembered laughing . . . Chris licking his lips after every drink . . . people taking off one by one . . . moving closer to Chris so he could hear him better . . . Chris’ arm around his shoulders . . . stumbling to get up to use the bathroom . . . laughing so hard over something he couldn’t even remember now that he’d gotten the hiccups . . . being so out of it that he’d been basically lying on top of Chris during the taxi ride back . . . kissing . . . shoving his hand down Chris’ pants . . . oh, fuck, blowing Chris while jerking himself off—

Zach nearly fell off the bed in his haste to get up, freezing when Chris mumbled something before going quiet once again.

Where were his pants? Hell, where was his underwear?

He had to cover his mouth to muffle the inappropriate and slightly hysterical laugh when he realized he was still wearing his socks and his shirt was completely buttoned up. So not sexy.

Not that it should have mattered.

Although it did.

And fuck, he hoped, oh, he really, really hoped, Chris remembered even less than he did. Chris who still had on all of his clothes, he realized a trifle resentfully. Although his jeans were undone. Not that he was looking.

Fuck, he needed to get _out_ of there.

But he really needed his pants first.

Zach finally found his underwear near the door to the room, and thank goodness, because he liked it breezy, but that was just ridiculous. He found his pants dangling off of one of Chris’ potted plants. Ooookay then. Good thing he was still drunk, or he would have been really embarrassed right about then.

Shoes, wallet, phone . . . check. He had everything. The only thing left was to leave.

Zach stood at Chris’ front door, looking across the span of his living room towards the hall that led to Chris’ bedroom.

Tentative hands sliding through his hair . . . soft gasps and grateful moans . . . his mouth stretched wide and a pulsing on his tongue . . . .

Fuck.

He shut the door quietly behind him.

\-----


End file.
